


Beneath Streetlamps

by jetpackcoolguy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Late Nights, M/M, convenience store parking lots, post-interhigh tournament, so you know what kind of vibes im going for here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6684046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetpackcoolguy/pseuds/jetpackcoolguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey"</p><p>"Hi. It's 1:40 am. Couldn't sleep, huh?"</p><p>"Yeah, no."</p><p>"Me neither."</p><p>For a while, Hanamaki hears nothing but the soft static crackling on the phone line. There's a quiet hiccupping noise and he wonders if on the other end Matsukawa is crying. Asking would be futile, so he doesn't bother. </p><p>"Um. Issei -" </p><p>"Hmm? Yeah?" Matsukawa hums at Hanamaki's use of his given name.</p><p>"Do you wanna come over? Let's get out of here."</p><p>There's a pause laced with hesitation and unspoken promises before Matsukawa replies with his usual ease, "Sure, I'd like that."</p><p>[A story of realisation and shared shy glances between the two of you]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Streetlamps

**Author's Note:**

> From the Way You Said "I Love You" prompts on tumblr: 'In awe, the first time you realised it'

"Hey"

 

"Hi. It's 1:40 am. Couldn't sleep, huh?"

 

"Yeah, no."

 

"Me neither."

 

For a while, Hanamaki hears nothing but the soft static crackling on the phone line. There's a quiet hiccupping noise and he wonders if on the other end Matsukawa is crying. Asking would be futile, so he doesn't bother.

 

"Um. Issei -"

 

"Hmm? Yeah?" Matsukawa hums at Hanamaki's use of his given name.

 

"Do you wanna come over? Let's get out of here."

 

There's a pause laced with hesitation and unspoken promises before Matsukawa replies with his usual ease, "Sure, I'd like that."

 

Pressing a small smile into the mouthpiece of his phone, Hanamaki whispers a quick "see you soon" before hanging up. Heart fluttering for a reason he can't quite identify, he rolls out of bed to pull on some jeans and a thin t-shirt, then opens his window to the fragrant, balmy summertime air. He listens to the cicadas chirping and realises that for the first time since the Aoba Jousai VBC had lost their final match a week ago, he doesn't feel sad, nor, as was more the norm, frustrated. A light smattering of stars wink down at his backyard as he sits on the windowsill, facing towards the inside of his room. Bathed in ivory moonlight, his room is washed of its colour, instead glinting silver amongst the inky shadows.

 

A large, warm - familiar - hand pressed between his shoulder blades interrupts his musings, and he twists around to see Matsukawa's unruly mop of curls above that ever-present mischievous grin. Once again, Hanamaki's heart leaps into his throat at the sight, and he internally berates himself for it - _chill the fuck out, this is your best friend. Why do you suddenly feel different around him?_

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin, however, when Matsukawa snakes an arm around his waist and _yanks,_ pulling his ass off the windowsill and causing him to topple over into the flowerbed. The taller boy laughs as Hanamaki climbs on to his knees, rubbing his backside mournfully.

 

"Oh man, you should see the look on your face!" Matsukawa manages to wheeze out, doubled over with laughter and tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

 

"Hey!" Hanamaki barks, and that's all the warning he gives before he grabs the front of his friend's t-shirt and drags him down to the ground. This quickly dissolves into a play-fight that Matsukawa wins (no surprise there - the gangly bastard never hesitates when it comes to throwing elbows), before they remember that it is in fact an inhuman hour of the night and practically no one in the neighborhood besides them is awake.

 

"Once again," Matsukawa gloats as he picks himself up then extends a hand to help Hanamaki to his feet, "I am proven to be the ultimate champion! The top dog, if you will - the alpha male!"

 

Hanamaki just laughs along and tries his best to ignore Matsukawa's shit-eating grin that he may or may not be just ever so slightly temped to wipe off with a bruising kiss. _Holy shit, that's - that's really, really gay._ Matsukawa raises an eyebrow questioningly at Hanamaki's strained expression, but, thankfully, chooses not to question it.

 

As they start off in an arbitrary direction to fuck-knows-where, Hanamaki finds himself wondering when it was he officially (that is to say, _I can't look at him without getting butterflies)_ Lost His Chill and how he might possibly begin to fish it out from the depths of his own personal hell.

 

"You okay?" Matsukawa glances over, "inquiring minds would like to know."

 

Hanamaki grunts affirmatively in response, and decides to push it out of his mind to the best of his abilities for as long as he can. Sighing, he loudly smacks a hand against his stomach and announces:

 

"I'm hungry! I need cream puffs, stat."

 

Rolling his eyes, Matsukawa mutters something about how he's _not paid enough to babysit_ before turning around and leading the way to the nearest 24 hour Family Mart. As they leisurely amble down the starlit avenues, they sway side to side gently, occasionally bumping shoulders or brushing hands. The two boys chatter between themselves about various inane topics the entire way, each more than happy to bask in the other's presence. As they near the store, Matsukawa slings his arms around Hanamaki's shoulders, causing the shorter man to jump in surprise and turn around, only to have his face accidentally collide with Matsukawa's. Both groaning in pain, Hanamaki apologizes rapidly while Matsukawa waves him off. As a reassurance that he wasn't hurt, Matsukawa quickly runs his fingers down Hanamaki's jaw, and Hanamaki wonders how many gay thoughts he can have in one evening before he implodes.

 

With this in mind, he briskly pats his too-warm cheeks before stepping into the air-conditioned interior of the convenience store. Grinning, Matsukawa strolls in behind him, ruffling Hanamaki's hair as he passes him on his way to the snacks aisles. The entire time they're in the store, Hanamaki trails after Matsukawa while clutching the hem of the taller man's t-shirt - a habit he indulges in when he's feeling particularly needy or tired. Matsukawa watches Hanamaki agonizingly dither over which pack of cream puffs he wants, then when the choice has finally been made, he swiftly grabs it from Hanamaki's hand and pays for it, despite the other's protests.

 

With a self-satisfied smile and much to Hanamaki's chagrin, Matsukawa slaps his money on the counter, telling the cashier to keep the change, and turns on his heels to exit the store.

 

"Dammit, Matsukawa!" Hanamaki drags his feet and whines, "you've got to stop buying food for me! I can pay for it myself, you know."

 

"I know you can. But I _like_ buying food for you. You do realise you buy me a lot of stuff too, right? Like pens, and phone charms, and books - and what about those god awful meme stickers from last week?"

 

"You -!" Hanamaki points accusingly at Matsukawa's chest, but pauses when he realises he can't really argue. So instead, he settles for pouting and grumbling something along the lines of "infallible logic... let me win an argument for once, why don't you?"

 

He plops himself on the ground unceremoniously while Matsukawa chuckles. The sound, quiet and pleasingly deep, washes over Hanamaki. If ever he's wanted to immerse himself in something, this is it. This sound.

 

The tips of his ears warm over when he feels Matsukawa's warm and reassuring weight press into his side briefly as his friend playfully knocks into him, and sighs in disappointment as the body retreats. Unthinkingly, he shuffles over on the curb to chase the sensation and leans his head on Matsukawa's broad shoulder. Wiggling his fingers, Hanamaki reaches over to open the packet of cream puffs, finishing the first one in two rapid bites. He feels Matsukawa's eyes on him as he devours the snack, the first three cream puffs promptly disappearing into his mouth. Picking up the fourth one, he stares at it contemplatively before lifting it up to Matsukawa's face. Raising his eyebrows, Matsukawa takes a bite and Hanamaki shivers when he feels Matsukawa's lips brush the tips of his fingers. Eyes half-lidded, Matsukawa finishes off the cream puff and then - _then -_ he fucking _licks_ the residue cream off Hanamaki's fingers, which is the approximate moment all of Hanamaki's blood decides to rush to his crotch as he lets out the most embarrassingly wanton noise he's ever produced.

 

Cheeks burning, he leaps to his feet and sprints to the opposite end of the small car park, whereupon he squats by a tree and hides his face in his hands. Wheezing with laughter, Matsukawa stumbles over to him.

 

" _Matsukawa!_ " Hanamaki wails into the crook of his elbow, "you caught me off-guard, okay!"

 

Matsukawa wipes tears from his eyes and squats next to him, "don't worry, man. I just wanted to see how you'd react and... I guess it was kind of nice?"

 

Slowly, Hanamaki raises his face, blush adamantly refusing to recede.

 

"It was... nice?"

 

"Well," Matsukawa coughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck, "I mean, yeah? It was pretty nice. You looked nice and the sound you made was ... um..."

 

"Nice?" Hanamaki supplies helpfully.

 

"Right. Yeah, it was. Sorry about it, anyway."

 

He trails off, and both men avert their gazes. They say nothing more on the matter, but Hanamaki stores the memory away for easy retrieval at a later date. He'd rather not process it now. After a while, Matsukawa tugs at his sleeve and points to the edge of the curb underneath the gently buzzing streetlamp. Silently, the two boys shuffle over to the curb and sit down, box of cream puffs forgotten outside the front of the store. Staring at his sneakers, Hanamaki's gaze idly follows the shadows of the moths that flit about far above his head. He feels a monumental sense of calm settle over him like a sheet of freshly fallen snow. His hand comes to rest on the floor by his side and his index finger traces swirling patterns on the concrete.

 

Matsukawa starts humming his own sweetly lazy rendition of Hanamaki's favourite song - _Love Hotel_ by Creephyp, and that is all it takes for Hanamaki to fall. He experiences an almost imperceptible shift and yet the effect is extraordinary - it is a sanguine path from _love_ to _in-love_ without much detour along the way. Or has he always felt like this? He couldn't say; such a thing is difficult to gauge when Matsukawa is peering at him from behind those heavy lashes, a small smirk playing across his lips.

 

When Matsukawa's little finger reaches out to hook around Hanamaki's, Hanamaki's head snaps up and their eyes meet.

 

"Holy shit," Hanamaki breathes, eyes wide as saucers, "I love you. I fucking love you, Issei."

 

For the first time in his life (but, as he will come to laugh about years later, certainly not for the last) he gets the pleasure of seeing Matsukawa's face flood with colour.   


"Jeez, Takahiro," (Hanamaki's heart pounds when he hears his own name fall from those sublime lips), "It's about time."


End file.
